The NoTell Motel
by tgrfan23
Summary: A smutteriffic coulda-shoulda-woulda scene that wasn't from 2x17, The Red Box, in which Rigsby and Van Pelt try to pick up where they left off at the Flamingo Motel. Complete.


Wayne Rigsby climbed behind the wheel of his car well past eight that evening. It had been a long and frustrating day, culminating in having to arrest a former colleague – a guy he'd once considered a friend – for the murder in the case they'd just wrapped up. Cho had volunteered to take Vic's statement, which was just as well; Rigsby wasn't sure he'd have been able to get through the process without giving into his disgust over what his friend had become; the exact same sort of greedy, selfish criminal they'd both sworn to apprehend. Additionally, he'd probably have cold-cocked Vic for propositioning Grace in the first place. _No pleading hypnosis would have gotten you out of that one, Rigsby,_ he reminded himself.

_I need a beer_, he thought. _A beer and a hot shower. Maybe Grace will want to order in a pizza since we didn't have any at the office?_ She'd left quietly an hour prior; the one thing she'd specifically insisted on was that they never be seen arriving at or leaving the office together. They agreed that they should at least attempt a modicum of decorum.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice the motel key taped to his steering wheel until after he'd already started the car. The Flamingo. The room next door to the one Slocombe had stayed in. _Grace, I can't believe you did this._

He steered the car in the general direction of his apartment, but instead of staying in the city, he hopped on I-80 and headed towards Citrus Heights.

A half-hour later, he pulled into a parking space in the back courtyard of the motel; while Grace's car was nowhere to be found, the slight twinge of paranoia in the back of his head convinced him to park where his car couldn't be seen from the street. He debated for a minute whether to grab his overnight bag, and decided better safe than sorry.

As he unlocked the door and crept quietly into the room, he saw Grace's overnight bag at the foot of the bed and relaxed. He sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off his shoes and loosening his tie. He'd teased her the day before about trying to fit in a quickie in Slocombe's room that afternoon, never fully believing that she might actually take him up on the idea. They'd been interrupted before getting very far and now it looked like they were about to pick up where they'd left off.

He heard the bathroom door open, and both of the deadbolts click into place before the lights went out and the room was illuminated only by the glow of the streetlamps outside and the residual light from the bathroom. Even in the shadows, Grace's form was unmistakable. And she was wearing only a bath towel.

_Okay, clearly not picking up right where we left off. Skipping quite a few steps ahead, apparently. _

"Grace, what in the world-" Her toes landing mere centimeters from his crotch stopped his question in its tracks.

Her foot scooted slowly forward on the bedspread, knowing that he'd already be well on his way to a full-on erection and relishing the opportunity to tease just a little bit.

"You can ask questions now, or you can ask them later. I think we both know what happens in between if you save them until later," she purred. Sliding his jacket off his shoulders, she started slowly backing him up until he was up against the wall. She methodically undid each button of his shirt, pausing only to swat at his hands every time he tried to unwrap the bath towel, which she had wrapped securely around her chest. "Lie down and keep your hands to yourself, mister, or this is going to be over before it even gets started," she whispered. Ever the straight arrow, he did as was told. She made quick work or his trousers and boxers, noting to her satisfaction that her teasing had worked just as she'd intended it to. He was fully aroused and his arms and hips were both twitching slightly, itching to make love to her. She knelt just above his ribcage and tossed the towel to the floor. He forgot her earlier instructions and started clawing at her hips, desperate to sink inside her. Instead of reprimanding him, however, she threaded their fingers together and leaned forward to pin his hands on either side of his head.

"Was this what you had in mind the other day?" she asked as she eased down on top of him, pressing her breasts into his chest and aligning her hips just above his pelvis. She popped her hips wide open, so her knees and the insides of her feet were flat on the bed, perfectly parallel to his long legs, and started rocking her hips and core muscles slowly backwards so that she took his cock in inch by agonizing inch, until he was finally fully enveloped by her warmth.

"No," he choked out, unable to focus on anything except her damp hair leaving wet trails over his arms and shoulders, and the heavy-lidded gaze of pure lust staring out from her brown eyes.

"No, I bet it wasn't. But this is so much better than a quick roll in the hay in the middle of the afternoon, isn't it?" She quickened her pace for a few strokes, then resumed languidly and unhurriedly stroking, licking the grooves in his abdominal muscles and sucking on his nipples, without even breaking stride.

Rigsby fought very hard to remain still and allow her to continue setting the pace. "God, Grace, this is amazing. How are you doing that?"

She grinned brightly. "You remember that alternative lifestyle you keep teasing me about? Well, you're reaping the benefits of it now. This is called frog pose, and while I don't think this was its originally intended purpose, I've been wanting to try it out for ages. You can thank me later," she teased as she nipped at his neck.

"Shit, if I'd known yoga was going to be this good for our sex life, I'd have started going to class with you ages ago."

"Empty threat, but I appreciate the sentiment anyway." She paused, leaning forward for a kiss, stroking and sucking his tongue as she brought his hands around to her back. "I know you can't take much more of this. I can feel that you're trying to restrain yourself. Let go for me," she pleaded as wrapped her arms around his neck, fully prepared to be flipped over onto her back and fucked into oblivion. Instead, he reached down, hooking his hands under her knees, bending his knees so his feet were flat on the bed, and used the leverage to start thrusting furiously, forcing Grace to squeeze her inner muscles around him to keep from losing the pace. She buried her face in his neck, not wanting her screams to be heard through the undoubtedly thin walls of the motel, but he nudged her away.

"No, Grace. I don't care if you don't want to scream so loudly that you can be heard at the other end of the hall, but I want you to look at me when you come. I want to see it in your eyes."

She pressed their foreheads together, using all of her remaining energy to draw him in deeper. "More, please, oh, so close, pleaaaaaaaaase, yes!" she squealed plaintively as her muscles twitched and tightened around his cock as she rode out her orgasm, pulling him over the edge right after her. She started to shiver as they both came down the high, and he scooped her up into his arms and tucked the both of them under the covers.

"Can I ask my questions now?" he mumbled a few minutes later.

"You don't have to, I can guess what you want to know. My yoga instructor is starting a new class at a studio a few blocks from here. When we were interrupted the other day, I knew that I could use her class as an excuse to be in the area. You said the beds here were firm, so I thought we should try one out. My car is over at the studio, that's why it's not here. I paid for the room in cash. There's no record of us ever having been here."

"You went to all that trouble to create a cover story so we could come up here and have a night to ourselves?"

"Yep. And be honest, you were a little turned on by the fact that this is basically a no-tell motel, right?"

"A little bit, not gonna lie."

"Thought so." They snuggled quietly for a few more minutes. "So, tell me more about this Kandie with a 'K'."

Rigsby sighed, not really wanting to elaborate on this particular topic. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Not for a little while, no. But I am a little curious about her. Obviously, she has good taste in men," she whispered as she licked the sensitive spot behind his earlobe.

"I met her years ago, Grace, when I was still living in San Diego and way before I ever had an inkling that someone like you would walk into my life. It was a bachelor party, she was one of the dancers, she took a liking to me, but I wasn't interested."

"Why not?"

"She was fake, Grace. From head to toe. Fake hair color, fake tan, fake nose, fake breasts, fake everything."

"How do you know her breasts were fake?"

"When they defy gravity in almost every way, it's a safe bet that they're fake. I like yours much better." To emphasize his point, he cupped them in each hand, stroking her nipples in circles with his thumbs. "I like everything about you much better."

"Mmmmm. Okay, you're off the hook for Kandie with a 'K'. On one condition."

"Name it and it's yours."

"Make love to me again."

"Done."


End file.
